


Doctor's Orders

by collarsandchucks



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: BDSM, Belts, Doctor Angela "Mercy" Ziegler, Dom/sub, F/F, Lesbian Character, Light BDSM, Light Dom/sub, Medical Kink, Overwatch Recall, Punishment, Spanking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:20:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22073173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/collarsandchucks/pseuds/collarsandchucks
Summary: Brigitte Lindholm finds herself under unexpected fire during her first training session with Overwatch. When she's told to report to the medical wing, she finds Dr. Ziegler has a very different treatment in mind for Brigitte's impulsiveness. The spanking she receives will be on her mind the next time she rushes into battle.
Relationships: Brigitte Lindholm/Angela "Mercy" Ziegler
Comments: 4
Kudos: 37





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> From: Phillabuster on FurAffinity (http://www.furaffinity.net/user/phillabuster/), posted with permission to continue with additional chapters.
> 
> "Thank you to collarsandchucks for the gorgeous art accompaniment, which you can see here: https://www.deviantart.com/collarsandchucks/art/Doctor-s-Orders-813902015
> 
> Collars made the mistake of sharing a piece of Overwatch BDSM fic she'd written. [https://archiveofourown.org/works/21840280] In solidarity, I wrote and shared my own fic. Her writing is incredible and I wanted to help support & encourage it- it was also just straight-up inspiring!
> 
> I'm not really super into shipping characters, but I do always love a good challenge when it comes to writing spanking stories, and Mercy/Brigitte was certainly a challenge to write convincingly.
> 
> ((Also low key, doctors are pretty hot.))
> 
> It's been a while since I've written anything but M/m but it was a hell of a lot of fun."

When Brigitte woke up that morning, it was still dark out. She'd been nearly completely unable to sleep, excited as she was by the prospect of her first day of real training. It'd been her dream to join Overwatch ever since she was very little, and, bolstered by the exuberance and optimism of youth, she'd finally found her place amongst the ranks of recalled heroes, a fresh, new face.

But youth had its drawbacks: namely, inexperience. Or maybe it was her sureness in her smithing that had fostered a sense of overconfidence. Either way, when it came time for training to begin, Brigitte had rushed into the fray, beyond the relative safety of her team's shield, only to find herself on the receiving end of a cascade of rubber bullets, which burst through her own personal shield and smacked her dead in the chest.

And that was how she came to find herself spread-eagled in the dirt, surprised, shield broken and laying to one side as a distant alarm sounded, signalling an abrupt end to the session.

"Brigitte!"

The ground trembled beneath her as a behemoth figure approached. The massive shadow it cast as it towered over her completely covered her entire body. Haloed in sunlight, the armor-clad figure peered down at Brigitte through a visored helm, covered head-to-toe in plate mail.

"Are you okay?" a voice thundered.

"Y-yeah!" Brigitte said, with a slight tremor. She hadn't expected Bastion, an out-dated E54 siege unit, to have such tremendous advantage over her brand-new technology. Off in the near distance, the family omnic trilled will concern.

"I-it's okay, Bastion," Brigitte said, sitting up. She stifled a groan as she did so, her armor sparking. "I'm okay!"

Bastion beeped apologetically, poking their head out from beneath the configuration of their sentry, which had been packed with training rounds. The end of their turret was still smoking. 

"Now I know why Papa was always so wary of Bastion," Brigitte laughed. "It's okay! I'm fine! Really! You don't have to fuss, Reinhardt!"

The armor-clad figure behind her sighed. "Really, Brigitte, what were you thinking? You wouldn't last five seconds in a real battle pulling that kind of stunt!"

Brigitte scoffed. "So I got a little far ahead! I thought you were right behind me, old timer. Help me up, will you?"

Reinhardt rolled his head around, exasperated, before offering Brigitte a massive gauntleted hand. As Brigitte stood, a sharp pain in her chest caused her to suck in air and immediately fall against her mace, which was covered in small dents.

"I think you better go to the infirmary," Reinhardt murmured, helping her upright again.

Brigitte paused for a moment. She was sure she could handle the pain- but her suit was in a bad way. The armory was next to the infirmary- she could use the extra time to repair and re-calibrate her equipment.

"Okay. I'll go rest," she reassured him. "But I hope you can keep up with me next time!"

Reinhardt sighed again, adjusting his own armor as Brigitte passed through the threshold and out of the training field, into their makeshift base of operations. As he passed Bastion, the omnic beeped quizzically.

"She'll learn," Reinhardt replied gruffly.

\--------------

It was two rights and a left to the armory. Brigitte knew it well, as she spent most of her time there, tinkering with different pieces of equipment. She'd learned everything she knew from her father, and from her relentless fascination with existing armor models, which had led her to dismantle and re-build entire sets from scratch just to see how they worked. Her own suit was made from modified bits and pieces of several others, plus some personal alterations she'd worked out in many hours of experimentation. She was proud of her handiwork, and hoped she could fix it, perhaps improve it so it could stand up to Bastion's onslaught...

The armory was empty when she arrived. Brigitte unceremoniously began stripping off her armor. Her chest piece was the worst for wear, and it took a heavy hand to pry it off, dented and warped as it was. It sparked as she laid it down, singeing the fabric of her clothes. Swearing under her breath at the mess laid before her, she wondered where to start.

As she picked up her first tool, though, a soft voice echoed behind her.

"Brigitte!"

Brigitte whipped around, sending a shaft of sharp pain through her shoulders.

"Dr. Ziegler! What are you doing here?"

"I could ask the same question! You were supposed to report to the infirmary," the doctor said, her arms crossed across her chest.

"Ah, I didn't think it was THAT big a deal," Brigitte replied, smiling. "Really, I'm fine. Just got unlucky, that's all!"

Dr. Ziegler crossed the room to where Brigitte was standing. The petite blonde was all sharp angles and soft skin, with a halo of wispy golden hair framing her fair face. A medical coat was draped over her slender figure. She was by no means as solidly built as Brigitte was, but somehow, Brigitte found the doctor to be oddly intimidating- certainly with the way she was approaching now, arms crossed, a disapproving yet concerned look on her face. She shook off the feeling with a shiver.

"I'll be the judge of that, thank you," Dr. Ziegler huffed impatiently. "On a scale of one to ten, how is the pain?"

She poked sharply at Brigitte, who sighed.

"One. One. Two. One," she rattled off as the doctor probed her upper body with slender but experienced fingers. "One. One. OW!"

The doctor's eyebrows rose slightly. 

Brigitte huffed indignantly. "I'm FINE! I swear. Please, I just want to work on my suit-"

The doctor cut her off with a quick hand gesture. "Infirmary, please. We must get you checked out in full. Doctor's orders!"

Dr. Ziegler pointed towards the door. Rolling her eyes, Brigitte sighed dramatically before sulking off towards the infirmary, the doctor in tow.

\--------------

Brigitte had never liked doctor's offices, even that of their family friend Dr. Ziegler, who impatiently ushered her into the examination room. They were always too cold, too bright, and too sterile. Brigitte preferred the dusty disorganization of a metal shop, where dirty hands were not only part of the job, but encouraged.

She stood awkwardly as the doctor bustled about, preparing some equipment.

"Shirt, off, please," Dr. Ziegler commanded as she flitted about, collecting supplies.

"Really, Angela, is all this necessary...?"

The doctor paused only to shoot Brigitte a raised eyebrow, to which she sighed before pulling off her shirt. The act was more laborious than anticipated, and she grimaced against the ache in her chest. She cast aside her shirt and stood, arms crossed against the chill, clad only in her bra. The doctor swiftly crossed the room and began poking and prodding her again. Brigitte sucked in air.

"Your hands are so cold!"

Suddenly, a jolt of pain caused her to bolt upright. "YEOW!"

"Just as I suspected," the doctor said with an edge to her voice. "Bruised ribs."

"See? No big deal after all," Brigitte said, smiling. "I'll be fine. It was just bad luck. Can I go now?"

Dr. Ziegler's head snapped up sharply and an uncomfortable silence fell over the room as she stared intently at Brigitte. Brigitte felt her blood run cold.

"Have you learned nothing from this?"

Brigitte swallowed hard. "Um... I learned that my armor needs to be re-calibrated..."

Dr. Ziegler sighed and slumped, head in hand. She looked back up into Brigitte's eyes, unblinking.

"Brigitte," she said, an edge to her voice that was sharper than any knife. "Out there, bullets aren't rubber. Do you understand?"

"I understand, doctor," Brigitte said, a soft, reassuring smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "It's nothing a couple extra layers of plating can't fix..."

There was a brief pause before Dr. Ziegler let out a deep, shuddering breath. When she looked back up at Brigitte, she seemed to have made up her mind about something.

"Please, remove your trousers as well."

Brigitte balked. "W-why?"

"Doctor's orders," the doctor replied curtly.

Confused, Brigitte did as she was told, shucking her thick pants away to join her shirt. The doctor looked on with a watchful eye, arms crossed, shoulders back, and chest out- like an imperious mother trying to bring her child under control. Brigitte practically withered under her stare.

"Turn around," Dr. Ziegler commanded.

Brigitte warily turned.

"Elbows on the table, please."

A mixture of incredulity and curiosity filled the smith, but she did as she was bidden. There was an edge to the doctor's voice she'd never heard her use before, simultaneously filled with emotion and devoid of it entirely. It was oddly haunting.

There was a brief pause after she settled into position. Then, a sudden movement behind her as the doctor closed the distance between them. Brigitte didn't know exactly what to expect as the doctor placed her hand between her shoulders.

Then, a very sharp and loud WHACK! echoed throughout the room. Brigitte shot up as an equally sharp sting blazed across her backside. 

"YEOW! Angela, what-"

She was cut off by another, even harder smack to her other panty-clad cheek. Dr. Ziegler's other hand moved up to clench around the back of Brigitte's neck, pushing her down. Despite her petite figure, the doctor was remarkably strong and swift, and in a much more stable position. Unable to keep her balance in such a precarious stance against the examination table, Brigitte fell back down onto her elbows, firmly pinned in place, as yet another blow landed across the curve of her rear. 

"You are too young-" Dr. Ziegler said between whacks, "-to be ignoring the advice of your officers. And if training wasn't enough to make you humble, maybe this will."

A whimper tore past Brigitte's lips as she gritted her teeth against the potency of the doctor's punishing hand. She had nowhere to go. Any effort to get her feet under her in a more optimal position only raised her rear end higher, which Dr. Ziegler immediately took advantage of, landing blow after stinging blow on Brigitte's cheeks.

"Angela, please!" Brigitte begged. To which the doctor only responded with a series of rapid strikes to her thighs, setting them ablaze. A frantic yelp escaped her.

"You lost your first-name-basis privileges," the doctor explained curtly. "From now on, you call me 'Doctor', or 'Dr. Ziegler'. Is that understood?"

Brigitte cried out against a sharp whack against her backside, a response to her brief hesitation. "O-OKAY! Okay, Doctor!"

"Good," the doctor quipped.

The blows stopped. Relieved, Brigitte began to stand up, only to feel Dr. Ziegler's vice-like grip intensify against her neck until it ached, and the doctor's other hand brush against her hips.

"What-"

"Be quiet," the doctor commanded. Brigitte fell silent, quivering with nerves, as Dr. Ziegler jerked Brigitte's panties down over her sore, now-bare buttocks.

The smacking resumed with renewed fervor. Brigitte couldn't help but cry out and squirm- as much as she was able to, at least, under the doctor's control.

"You are not invincible, Brigitte," Dr. Ziegler chided her between blows and yelps. "I have seen this attitude too many times in the young soldiers that wind up in my hospital to sit by and let you ignore the lessons you so desperately need to learn!"

Brigitte lost track of time after that. Her existence, which used to be measured in seconds, now became measured by slaps to her ever-reddening rear end. The doctor seemed to be intent on evenly coating her buttocks in smacks, methodically moving up and down each cheek until she was satisfied with the shade of red Brigitte's pale skin had turned. Brigitte's eyes were misty with indignant, pained tears, fists clenched against the pain in her bottom and neck, where Dr. Ziegler's firm grip never lessened.

As suddenly as it had begun, the onslaught finally stopped. Brigitte lay there, almost unable to believe it.

"Don't move," the doctor said quietly.

Brigitte didn't dare argue or test Dr. Ziegler as she removed her hand from Brigitte's neck. There was a soft shuffling noise and the brief fluttering of fabric against her skin, then the unmistakable metallic sound of a belt being unbuckled. Brigitte began to sweat as the realization of what was happening hit her in waves. Disbelief fully paralyzed the young engineer, and before she could recover, the doctor's hand returned, this time pushing down between her shoulder blades until she lay completely flat against the padded examination table. 

The doctor gently but firmly kicked her legs apart, completely removing Brigitte's footing from beneath her. An anticipatory sob hitched in Brigitte's throat.

"It pains me to see you like this, Brigitte," the doctor said, genuine concern softening her tone. "But if this is what it takes to get through to you, I will gladly administer it. Preventative care is certainly better than the alternative..."

Tears began streaking down Brigitte's face. She recognized the concern in the doctor's voice. It reminded her of the way that Brigitte herself would speak to her papa, just as exuberant a spirit as Brigitte was. He worried her often with his antics. Guilt, and finally, understanding, rushed over her, and she lay her moistened cheek against the examination table.

"I'm sorry," Brigitte whispered, her eyes searching for the doctor's amidst her disheveled blonde hair. Her gaze met Dr. Ziegler's, whose face softened suddenly, almost motherly. 

"I know you are, sweetheart."

Brigitte didn't fight the doctor as she raised her belt, looped loosely in her free hand, and smacked it against Brigitte's swollen, reddened flesh. The pain followed a second after the incredible CRACK! of leather on bare skin, sending tongues of intense heat up and down her cheeks. She lurched forward involuntarily, silently sobbing, as another blow landed squarely across both buttocks. The belt was infinitely worse than the doctor's hand, which seemed gentle, almost comfortable, by comparison. Brigitte dry-sobbed haplessly into the sterile paper covering the examination table. Various appeals for mercy clamored in her mind under the onslaught, but none of them made it past her lips. She deserved this, she knew. SMACK! WHAP! CRACK!

As Dr. Ziegler continued to whip her, Brigitte melted completely into the table, not even bothering to hold herself up anymore. Scolding was no longer necessary- the belt spoke loudly of the doctor's disappointment and fear for Brigitte's safety. And Brigitte vowed to listen, even as her inflamed cheeks turned darker and darker, bouncing under the relentless force of the stinging leather.

As if sensing Brigitte's wholehearted contrition, Dr. Ziegler decided she'd had enough. The silence that fell over the room now was a stark contrast to the loud cacophony of noise from before, broken only by the soft remnants of Brigitte's defeated sobbing. The doctor gripped her gently by the shoulders and squeezed, inviting the thoroughly-punished engineer to stand, wobbly-kneed.

Brigitte sobbed against the medical officer's shoulder. Dr. Ziegler held her close, stroking her hair and hugging her tightly, until tenderly pushing back the hiccuping girl so she could brush Brigitte's auburn hair over her ears and out of her face. To her surprise, Brigitte saw tears in the doctor's own eyes.

"Oh, Brigitte," the doctor murmured comfortingly, thumb brushing across her freckled cheek. "A doctor applies whatever medicine their patient needs to be healthy, you understand? I care deeply for you. I only want you to be safe."

She placed a soft, reassuring kiss on Brigitte's forehead, drawing the first smile from the young engineer's face since they'd entered the office, which had warmed considerably during their session.  
Brigitte drew the doctor into a firm hug and nodded. 

"You're so brave," Dr. Ziegler purred. "You will make us all proud. I believe in you, Brigitte."  
Brigitte nodded again.

"Now, about those ribs! Why don't you get dressed while I handle your medication."

The doctor pushed away from her patient, flitting about the cabinets until she came up with a bottle filled with a small amount of chalky white pills. She patiently waited until Brigitte had dressed herself before pressing the bottle tenderly into her hands. 

"Take one twice a day with food," the doctor recited. "If the pain lasts more than five days, come and see me again, okay?"

"Yes, Doctor."

"Good. Oh, and Brigitte?"

"Yes, Dr. Ziegler?"

The blonde doctor smiled warmly at her, concern bleeding into her expression once more.

"Be more mindful next time, okay?"

"Of course, Doctor," Brigitte replied. A shy smile crossed her face and she blushed, averting her gaze. "Or you'll administer another dose, right?"

The doctor laughed before tenderly touching Brigitte's nose with a slender finger. "Only as many as it takes, my dear. It all depends on you."


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brigitte Lindholm does her best to avoid recalled Overwatch Head of Medical Research, Dr. Angela Ziegler, after the blistering spanking she received at the doctor's hands. When her thoughts lead her absentminded wanderings back to the scene of her punishment, she finds this time that it's Dr. Ziegler who needs to be spanked, in order to relax. Dr. Ziegler provides her expert opinion on how she should be spanked to best put her mind at ease.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After my dear friend Phillabuster wrote a fabulous Mercy/Brigitte spanking fic, I absolutely knew I had to follow it up. I think from here on out we'll be trading chapters and seeing how long we can keep this going!
> 
> As a submissive myself, I knew it would be challenging to write the kind of role reversal I wanted to see while keeping the POV character the same. That said, I'm very pleased with how this sort of "topping from the bottom" story came together!

It had been three weeks since Brigitte’s first training session with the recalled heroes of Overwatch. Three weeks since Bastion, a family friend she thought, had overwhelmed her shield and riddled her armor with rubber bullets. But most prominent in her memory of that day, it had been three weeks since Brigitte had been spanked by Overwatch’s head medical officer Angela Ziegler. 

“So much for Mercy” she had thought, walking back to her quarters after the blistering punishment. That night, spent restlessly trying to find a comfortable way to sleep, left her with perilously little else to think about. She resolved then to stay in Dr. Ziegler’s good graces, and out of her office. 

Brigitte had done her best to avoid Dr. Ziegler in those three weeks. It wasn’t especially difficult. The once ghostly Watchpoint: Gibraltar was now chaotic, constantly filled with new arrivals as old and new heroes alike answered Winston’s call to arms. Brigitte was kept busy with training exercises. Dr. Ziegler was kept busy with patching up injuries and continuing her research. Brigitte worried at first that she would have to face Dr. Ziegler at meal times, but the doctor frequently took her meals in her office, or sometimes not at all. Today appeared to be one of those days. Reinhardt must have noticed Brigitte’s furtive glances at the mess hall doors. 

“Brigitte,” her mentor thundered, always louder than necessary, “What’s with all this looking around? Is there some cute soldier you’re hunting for?” Reinhardt laughed.

Brigitte sighed, confident now that Dr. Ziegler would not be stopping by to join them. “No Reinhardt, I’m just trying to keep track of all the new faces.” 

Reinhardt raised an eyebrow, but did not pursue the thought further. “How goes your training? Not as exciting as being my squire, eh?” The older man chuckled again.

“Not nearly,” Brigitte smiled, “But Lena’s drills have been helpful with my reaction time. I won’t let another situation like the Dragons happen again.”

Reinhardt grimaced, as if recalling his injuries. “We are not alone anymore, Brigitte, we have a team that needs us. I trust you will be their shield, as you have been mine.”

Brigitte dropped her voice low in an imitation of Reinhardt. “We have been called. We must answer. Always.” 

The old Crusader laughed. Brigitte had been hesitant to follow her mentor back to the organization she felt had mistreated him. Paris had changed everything.

“I wonder where Angela has gotten to. She had promised me she was going to take a break.” Reinhardt said, looking around for the doctor.

Brigitte flinched. “I imagine she is either seeing patients or shut up in her office again.”

Reinhardt’s face softened. “She did not want to come back, you know. War never suited her. She’s just never been able to stomach someone being hurt, and Overwatch gave her the tools to help. If she’s in her office, I imagine she is researching, tinkering, hoping she can save just one more old soldier like me.”

“Tinkering? I thought Papa had built Ange-- er, Dr. Ziegler’s armor.” Brigitte said, more question than statement.

“Aye, but it was her technology that makes miracles happen. You might talk to her about her research. It might improve your armor packs as well.”

Brigitte kept her eyes on her food. “Perhaps I will.”

* * *

Compared to the other former Overwatch bases, Watchpoint: Gibraltar was small. However, it was large enough that Brigitte had managed to avoid the medical wing since her last appointment. The sun was setting and the buzzing hive of activity on the base had slowed to a low hum. Brigitte always loved this time of day. Training exercises were over, dinner had been served, and there was at last just a moment of peace and quiet. Time for Brigitte to think.

Brigitte was an engineer at heart, and a soldier by circumstance. She missed the time spent on the open road with Reinhardt. She had filled the long drives with schematics and tinkering and planning new devices. Since following Reinhardt back to Overwatch, she had precious few moments to work on her designs. At least in the evening she had time to problem solve, even if the armory’s workshop was frequently filled with others trying to get repairs. 

Dr. Ziegler’s armor and staff were largely a mystery to Brigitte. She knew they had been built by her father, but the technology underlying it had rarely been discussed. She never wore them on visits to the Lindholms, and only brought them by if something needed to be fixed. By the time Brigitte was old enough to want to inspect the equipment, Dr. Ziegler had already taken off to parts unknown. When they met again in Paris, the Mercy armor looked as if it had never seen battle. Clearly the doctor had been taking care of it on her own.

Brigitte had never truly thought of Dr. Ziegler as a scientist, let alone an engineer. She imagined the long nights Dr. Ziegler must have been spent in the lab, tinkering and fiddling with equipment. Skipping meals and getting to bed just before sunrise. When Brigitte was working, she did her best to push anything but her tools and her designs out of her thoughts. Nevertheless, the thought of protecting others, her friends and family, was always in the back of her mind. She thought Dr. Ziegler likely felt the same way.

Buried in thought, Brigitte walked aimlessly around the base. Perhaps because her thoughts lingered so on Dr. Ziegler, she found herself outside the medical wing quite on accident. Most of the rooms were dark, either empty or with resting occupants. But there was a light on at the end of the hall. Dr. Zeigler’s office.

Brigitte’s hand drifted unconsciously to her backside. The pain of her punishment had long since faded, but the sight of the crumpled paper on the exam bed and the feeling of Dr. Ziegler’s vice grip on her neck were burned into her memory. Brigitte could feel anxiety begin to overtake her and she resolved to go back to her room and hide. 

Before she could take a single step, the sound of a crash and shattering glass echoed down the hall. Without thinking, she rushed toward the doctor’s office. She arrived to find Dr. Ziegler slumped on the floor, leaning against her desk, an array of test tubes and beakers shattered on the floor around her. Dr. Ziegler, the most powerful and composed woman Brigitte knew, was crying.

“Angela!” she half shouted has she dropped to her knees next to the doctor. “Is everything alright? Are you hurt?”

Dr. Ziegler blinked tears away, rubbed her eyes, and then squinted up at the engineer. “Brigitte? What are you doing here? Not injured again I hope.”

Brigitte could smell alcohol faintly on the doctor’s breath, and saw an open bottle of amber liquid next to a cup of tea. Brigitte pulled Dr. Ziegler onto her feet and looked around the office. Notebooks and paper files, an oddity for such a technologically advanced office, were scattered everywhere. The Caduceus staff lay on a workbench, mechanical guts spilling across the table’s surface. 

“Angela, what are you doing?” Brigitte asked concerned.

The doctor sniffled and pushed half a test tube aside with her foot. “It’s nothing, Brigitte, nothing harmful at any rated. Just more wasted time.”

Dr. Ziegler retrieved a broom from the corner and began sweeping the broken glass in a pile. Brigitte quickly moved to take the broom away and lead the doctor to the soft office chair behind her desk. The older woman lifted her tea to her mouth, sipped it, and seemingly thought better of drinking more. She pushed the cup away and set her head in her crossed arms on the desk. Brigitte had never seen her family friend look so disheveled. Unsure of what to say, she fell back on engineering.

“Is there something wrong with the Caduceus staff?”

Dr. Ziegler looked up, wearily. “Not wrong, Brigitte. Just not optimal.” The doctor shuffled papers on her desk. “My ex… colleague, ran away with all my research, straight to Talon, it would seem. I’ve had to start several projects over from scratch. With their hacker still at large, I’m afraid to put anything into the computer systems. Paper is safer. I just need more time. The war has barely begun and I’m already up to my neck in patients. I can’t help everyone if I can’t finish my research and if I can’t help them, people will die.” The doctor’s words fell out of her with increasing speed and intensity. “I just need some more damn time, there’s no time. Damn Jack and damn Gabriel and fuck O’Deorain.”

Brigitte set the broom aside and crossed the room to Dr. Ziegler. She tentatively put one hand on the doctor’s shoulder. From the looks of it, her lab coat hadn’t been washed recently.

“Is there anything I can do?”

Dr. Ziegler looked to be on the verge of tears again. She looked frail and her skin was pale. “Not unless you can turn back the clock.”

Brigitte felt a sharp, uncomfortable feeling slither through her chest. In that moment, she thought there could be no greater pain than being unable to help her friend.

“It’s just patient after patient. Everyone gets sent to medical for every fucking stubbed toe. I see nearly twenty patients a day, that’s worse than the turn of the fucking millenium. And my research? Crammed into the fleeting hours of night when most everyone is asleep. What am I supposed to do, Brigitte?” Dr. Ziegler slumped over again. “And the only stress relief I had is gone.”

Brigitte cocked her head. “What stress relief is that? A hobby? I’m sure I could help you get back into it.”

Dr. Ziegler turned beat red and hid her face. “Forget I said anything, Brigitte.”

“Angela, anything you need. I will help. I would hope as an old friend you would let me.”

“You’re not old enough to have old friends, Brigitte.”

“Angela.”

The doctor sighed and looked away sheepishly. “Being a doctor, much less the head of research for Overwatch has always been incredibly stressful. Holding life and death in your hands? It’s exhausting. O’Deorain treated it like a drug, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t drain on her too. That much power, that control.” Dr. Ziegler blushed again. “Sometimes you need to give up that control.”  
Brigitte listened in silence, not quite grasping what Dr. Ziegler was trying to explain. The doctor must have sensed it.

“That treatment I gave you? For your bruised ribs? It was also our favored prescription for the stress of the job.” Dr. Ziegler sighed. “But I don’t have a peer I can go to in Overwatch. Not anymore.”

Brigitte shifted uncomfortably. Despite fearing a repeat of her punishment, she was curious. “Angela, I’d be... Happy to help. I just don’t have much experience with this sort of thing.”

Angela smirked. “I’ve seen you use that flail. You’ll be a natural.”

The doctor stood up from her desk and slid out of her lab coat. Brigitte thought her black sweater could use a wash too. She pulled down the sleeves, as if suddenly aware of the chill and pushed her chair away. 

“Close the door.”

Brigitte felt the doctor’s eyes on her as she shut the office door and locked it. “Aren’t you afraid someone will hear?”

“If they did before, they never mentioned it.” Dr. Ziegler beckoned Brigitte over with the slightest wave of a finger. When Brigitte came around to the doctor’s side of the desk, Dr. Ziegler made a show of lowering her scrubs to her knees and bending over the desk. Brigitte blushed at the lacy, but comfortable, red panties the doctor wore. She ran a finger along the waistband.

“Leave those where they are, for now.” Dr. Ziegler said, with the voice of a seasoned military officer.

Brigitte wasn’t sure how the doctor could maintain such a cool, authoritative tone in such a vulnerable position. She felt certain that, much like the spanking she had received at the doctor’s hands, Dr. Ziegler was in control here too. 

“Come to my left side and place your left hand between my shoulders, putting just enough pressure to keep me from rising, understood?”

Brigitte quickly followed her doctor’s orders and got into position. At the sight of Dr. Ziegler, an old friend and mentor, happily exposing her ass to pain, Brigitte felt both timid and a little excited. ‘Revenge?’ she thought briefly. But no, this was for Angela’s benefit.

“Do not aim too high, the kidneys are quite vulnerable to damage. Keep to the lower two thirds of the buttock, focusing most of your strikes in the lower third. You may also lightly strike the top of my thighs, just underneath the buttock, if you so choose. Most importantly, keep me still to the best of your abilities. If I say ‘Blackwatch’ you are to stop immediately. That is my safeword.”

“You named your safeword after the covert division of Overwatch?” Brigitte asked, stifling a laugh.

“The other way around, actually. There is occasionally bruising. Please let me know if you become uncomfortable or want to stop. Otherwise, I would like you to continue until you hear my safeword. You may begin when you are ready.”

“Yes, Dr. Ziegler.” 

“Good girl.”

Brigitte felt the warmth radiating through Angela’s sweater and pressed down gently on her back. Tentatively, she aimed her first blow where Angela had indicated, on her right cheek. It made a light tapping sound, which was quickly followed by a laugh from the doctor.

“Is that how you imagined I spanked you? With the tip of my fingers?”

Brigitte blushed. “No, Dr. Ziegler.”

“Again, with feeling this time.”

Brigitte planted her feet and steadied her breath. This time she wound up for a swat on the other cheek that pushed the doctor against her desk. She let out a soft groan in response.

“Better. Now keep going.”

Brigitte tested out a few more blows, ranging in power and location, and gauging the doctor’s response. It was not unlike an engineering problem. Work long enough and the machine will tell you what it needs. Likewise, before long she felt Angela pushing her ass up toward Brigitte. The younger woman took it as a sign to go harder, and her instincts were rewarded. She could see beneath the lace of Angela’s panties that her ass was getting more and more pink. Angela had hardly moved at all. Brigitte thought she must have looked ridiculous to Angela, squirming as she did on the medical exam table. With a sly smile, Brigitte vowed to herself to make Angela do the same.

Brigitte continued, gradually upping the intensity and frequency of the spanks. She began to feel some resistance under the hand on Angela’s back and pressed down harder. She landed smack after smack on the doctor’s upturned rear, smiling at the way it bounced and jiggled. She couldn’t help herself but to give it a soft squeeze. 

“Getting a bit handsy, are we soldier?” Angela cooed, turning her face slightly to look back.

“Sorry, Dr. Ziegler. Won’t happen again.”

“I didn’t say to stop. But since we’ve paused, now would be a good time to take down my panties. Leave them midway down my thighs please. I like to feel them slide down my legs, if you can get me kicking.”

Brigitte blushed and did as she was told. “Dr. Ziegler, my hand, this is starting to sting.”

Angela laughed. “Your calloused hands? Seasoned in battle? I’m surprised Brigitte. You can find a range of implements in my desk. If you have questions about their use, you will ask me before using them.”

Brigitte swallowed hard. “Yes, Dr. Ziegler.” She stepped away from Angela to open the top drawer on the left side of the desk. It was filled with more notebooks and photographs. One showed Angela with other members of Overwatch, including many faces Brigitte knew and many she did not. Angela was standing very close to a tall, angular, red headed woman.

“The bottom drawer, Brigitte.”

Brigitte blushed and quickly closed the drawer. “Yes, Dr. Ziegler. Of course.” The bottom drawer was at once in line with her expectations and wildly divergent from them. A whole range of tools sat neatly organized in the deep drawer. A variety of devices of different sizes and shapes made of wood, leather, and synthetic materials were laid out in orderly rows. Brigitte reached in and selected one tentatively, as if the drawer was a giant mouse trap ready to close on her hand. From the drawer she drew out a small, round wooden panel with a leather wrapped grip.

“Ah, a good choice for a beginner.” Brigitte jumped at the sound of Angela’s voice. The doctor had turned slightly to examine the younger woman’s selection. “Easy to control, predictable aim, similar feeling for the spanker as using a hand, without palm sting. You may want to stretch your wrist first. It’s deceptively heavy upon repeated swings.”

Brigitte giggled nervously and resumed her position to Angela’s side. Placing her left hand between Angela’s shoulders, Brigitte lined up the paddle with the doctor’s now completely exposed rear. She started with a few light test swats to feel out the weight and swing of the paddle and found it comfortable. The doctor’s moans and giggles were encouraging. 

Once again Brigitte began the process of testing more rigorously. She observed how the doctor moved under her with every smack of the thick wooden paddle. After only 5 or 6 swats, Angela was pushing her ass up toward Brigitte again, begging for more. Brigitte was more than happy to oblige. She considered each blow carefully for power and timing, but with the speed of a seasoned soldier. Angela’s ass went from a shade of pale pink to a bright fire engine red and eased gradually to a deep cherry color. 

Brigitte couldn’t help herself but to enjoy the deep moans and pathetic whimpers issuing from the doctor who had tanned her hide earlier that month. As the spanking continued, Angela began squirming and writhing, rising up on her toes and shifting from side to side. Brigitte moved her left hand down to the small of Angela’s back and shoved the doctor firmly into the desk. She continued to spank, holding Angela down with one hand and raining blows with the paddle in the other. 

Brigitte lost track of how many times she had struck the other woman. But aside from the occasional wiggle, Angela showed no signs that she wanted it to stop. Brigitte was impressed at the endurance of the thin woman beneath her grasp. She was certain Angela had taken far more blows than Brigitte had before she was a sobbing mess on the medical exam bed. She kept up the assault, slowing only slightly when she began to hear light whimpers coming from the doctor. From there on out, after each blow she could feel less and less resistance from Angela, who was seemingly melting into the hard metal desk beneath her. 

“Blackwatch.” Angela’s voice was soft, but lacking none of the authority it otherwise had.

Brigitte stopped just as she was preparing a particularly heavy swat. “Are you alright, Dr. Ziegler?”

“Yes, Brigitte. You’ve been a good girl.” Brigitte was not sure how the older woman maintained her authority and composure bent over a desk with tears on her cheek. “I just have one last request and you shall be done.”

“Yes, Dr. Ziegler?”

“Ten more strikes with the paddle. Five on each cheek. As hard as you feel you can safely aim.”

Brigitte stifled a gasp. After all that, she wanted more? Angela’s upturned ass was a red so deep it bordered on purple. Brigitte was certain there would be bruising. She gently placed a hand on Angela’s ass to give a reassuring squeeze. It was hot to the touch.

“Yes, Dr. Ziegler.”

The engineer turned soldier steadied herself, spreading her legs to give her a more secure stance. She placed one hand at the small of Angela’s back, pressing her firmly into the desk. She took a deep breath, wound up, and slammed the paddle into Angela’s ass as hard as she could. The effect was immediate. Angela’s back arched as she let out a high-pitched cry of pain. 

“One.” Brigitte said aloud. She reached up and pushed Angela’s shoulders back down to the desk. Deep breath. Wind up. Another blistering blow.

“Two.”

Angela’s whimpers turned into sobs, the tears flowing freely now. Brigitte prepared for another strike.

“Three.” 

“Four.”

“Five.”

Brigitte wasn’t sure how much more the doctor could take, sobbing as she was into her desk. Brigitte imagined the desk was cold and uncomfortable. However, Angela offered no resistance and hadn’t used her safeword again. She continued.

“Six.”

“Seven.”

“Eight.”

Angela was no longer sobbing, just a light sniffle. Brigitte thought she caught the hint of a smile on the doctor’s face.

“Nine.”

“Ten.” 

The last crack of the paddle seemed to echo in the room. Then set in a comfortable stillness, as if all the kinetic energy built up and used in the spanking at once filled them and drained out of the room. For a moment, silence.

“Thank you, Brigitte.” Angela lifted herself from the desk and gently slid her panties and scrubs back on. She winced as she did. “Please, have a seat.”

Brigitte fell back into the armless office chair that had been pushed away prior to the spanking. She was suddenly very aware of how tired she was and how sore her arm had become. She looked up at Angela, face streaked with the normally pristine eyeliner that had been disturbed by tears. The doctor gingerly set herself down in Brigitte’s lap.

“Do you remember what I did after I punished you Brigitte?”

“You held me and stroked my hair and kissed my forehead.”

“Very good. This is known as aftercare. As I’m sure you have recognized, spankings can take a psychological toll as well as physical one. A literature review and my own observations in this area conclude that without sufficient aftercare, the subject of a spanking can drop, becoming depressed, anxious, or otherwise distressed.”

Brigitte laughed. Always the doctor. She pulled Angela into a tight hug, gently rubbing her back. Angela seemed to melt into her arms, and nuzzled gently against Brigitte’s neck.

“I’m impressed, Angela. I was surprised that you were able to take so much, small as you are.”

Angela chuckled. “It comes with practice. Being the head of medical research is a stressful job. And being spanked is how I relieve stress. You can do the math.”

The pair clung to each other in comfortable silence for a moment. Brigitte felt a certain adrenaline fueled impulsiveness, the kind that had landed her in the medical wing three weeks ago.

“I would… like to learn more about your stress relieving techniques, Dr. Ziegler.”

Angela smiled. “Let’s schedule a follow up appointment.”


End file.
